Flowers on Your Skin
by callistana
Summary: Princess Winter brings Scarlet a surprising present. Winter/Scarlet. Written pre-Winter. Oneshot.


Scarlet woke with a start as the doors to the menagerie slammed shut. She drew back from the bars of her cage, instantly alert, her heart pounding in her chest.

The faintest sound of a Lunar melody – one that, after weeks of captivity, Scarlet was now familiar with – made its way to her ears, and she immediately relaxed. It was only the princess. Winter's humming grew louder as she rounded the corner of Ryu's cage. Today, Scarlet's captor was dressed all in white, a delicate gossamer gown studded with bright red jewels around the neckline and wrists. In the dark light of her prison, the rubies around Winter's neck glistened like heavy droplets of blood. It was as lovely as it was disturbing, and Scarlet couldn't help but shiver as the girl drew closer.

"Hello, friend," Winter trilled as she approached. "I've brought a fun activity with me today."

"Let me guess," Scarlet replied scathingly. "You want me to play fetch?"

Winter laughed, a joyous, clear sound, like the tinkle of a wind chime. Scarlet couldn't imagine any sound more beautiful. The thought made her scowl as the princess leaned forward and placed a small box on the ground beside Scarlet's cage.

Scarlet looked from the box to Winter's face, and the sarcastic remark she'd been about to make died on her lips.

Winter's perfect curls and bright eyes regularly had the power of temporarily taking Scarlet's breath away, but today Scarlet's attention was drawn to the princess' cheek. A fine trail of tiny red roses decorated her face from the corner of her eye to the elegant point of her chin, covering but not quite concealing the jagged path of her scars. If anything, the bright red paint only emphasised the strangely elegant lines of raised flesh.

"Do you like it?" Winter asked, eagerly pressing her ruined cheek against the bars so that Scarlet had no choice but to look at the girl's face. "The colour made me think of you."

It wasn't much of a compliment – after all, her once-bright hoodie was now more brown than red – but Scarlet still felt an oddly pleasant swooping sensation in her stomach as she thought of this beautiful girl thinking of her. She shrugged non-committedly.

"I could do your marks too, if you like," Winter said happily. "A little yellow daisy on each and every dot." Before Scarlet could object or move away, the princess raised one long, elegant finger to Scarlet's cheek, brushing an invisible line from the edge of her nose to the corner of her mouth.

Scarlet's cheeks burned at the contact. She batted the girl's hand away.

"They're not scars, they're _freckles_ ," Scarlet snapped. "And I'm not your canvas, thank you very much."

Winter pouted but her eyes shone with humour, as though she found Scarlet's anger charming. She reached out again, catching Scarlet's wrist instead.

"What about these, then?" she asked and her voice softened as she lifted the other girl's hand. Scarlet looked down, observing the tight, red skin that stretched over the barely-healed stumps of her fingers. It looked even uglier than usual beside Winter's bejewelled wrists and perfectly manicured nails. "I could paint these for you."

Something in Winter's tone made Scarlet look up. Again, as she always was, she was struck by the girl's impossible loveliness. By the knowing curve of her smile and the sharp gleam in her golden brown eyes. By the bright red flowers blooming from the puckered skin of her scars – scars which served as a constant reminder that this lonely, mad, infuriating girl had suffered at the hands of Levana too. That she was _still_ suffering.

Scarlet reached forward and opened the box between them. Inside were a dozen small pots of brightly coloured paint and a long, thin paintbrush. She took out the paintbrush and handed it to Winter.

"Nothing too flashy," she warned, "I don't want Ryu to get jealous."

Winter's answering smile was dazzling.

Scarlet offered out her hand and settled into a more comfortable sitting position to watch Winter as she worked. After a few minutes of silence, Scarlet found it was easy – even comfortable – to look at her. There was something soothing about the way Winter smiled whenever she glanced up through thick lashes to meet Scarlet's eyes, and Scarlet was surprised by the look of concentration and intensity on the princess' face, as though painting Scarlet's hand was a task of utmost importance to her. Winter's hand held hers so carefully, mindful of her still-sore skin, and Scarlet felt her remaining fingers tingling with every stroke of the paintbrush.

"There," Winter said, wiping her brush on the back of her own hand about ten minutes later. "What do you think?"

Scarlet glanced down. Her mutilated hand was almost unrecognisable. An elaborate pattern of curly white roots trailed around her wrist and up her palm, blooming into a cluster of tiny green leaves which seemed to have sprouted from the stumps of her fingers. She didn't recognise the plant –it was a herb of some kind, perhaps – but the leaves reminded Scarlet of her grandmother's vegetable garden, and she felt a sharp pang of nostalgia.

"It's beautiful," she admitted reluctantly. "Thank you."

"I'm not finished yet," Winter said. She selected a new paintbrush, dipped it into another pot of ink, and leaned back over Scarlet's hand.

"Let me guess," Scarlet said, smiling despite everything. She leaned forward to watch Winter work. "Daisies?"

The princess hummed vaguely. "I don't think that daisies would go very well with cress seeds, would they?"

She drew a sharp point emerging from one white root, then another, then another. Soon, Scarlet's entire palm was covered in swirling white roots and thick black points.

"Thorns," Scarlet whispered weakly, understanding flooding through her. She looked up at the princess, who smiled innocently, and dotted another black mark on the side of Scarlet's wrist.

" _Where are they?_ " Scarlet whispered, as quietly as she could manage.

"Silly pet," Winter said loudly, smiling that sly, meaningful smile Scarlet had come to know so well. "They're _here_. See?" She traced a line down from the cluster of green leaves to the sharp black points nestled in the palm of her hand, and then took both of Scarlet's hands in her own, whispering so quietly that Scarlet had to lean forward to catch the words. " _They're right here._ _In the city. They've come for you_."


End file.
